Fall As They May
by argentiumlupus
Summary: My after AOD tale. Lara is sucked deeper into a mysterious world of secrets and lies in order to set things straight in the grand scheme of things. She finds out that the pieces will fall as they may. I can't reveal too much. yes, kurtis is included...
1. Ch 1 Friends Of Darkness

okay first i want to thank svenskaya for all your help. this is going to be a long story so be sure to check every now and then for updates. i got the whole story thought out. it's just a matter of putting in words and uploading. it's going to be a two part saga and all i can say is enjoy. please for the love of cheese give me some reviews.

For legal purposes I do not own Kurtis Trent or Lara Croft in any way shape or form. They belong to eidos or crystal dynamics or something. I stopped keeping track.

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--Chapter 1:Friends Of Darkness--

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A memory flashes before open eyes.

Back to the wall, silent as the grave. Breath so soft it slipped out of her lips without making a sound. Only the cold sensation of it against parched lips reminded her that she was still breathing. Ready. The scratching sound of metal against metal. There it is again, louder. Heart pounding furiously beneath her chest. Adrenaline pumping a thrilling anxiety through her veins. Scratch-shing, scratch-shing, scratch-shing. Trembling fingers danced along the textured grip of her weapon and then take hold of it in a single swift maneuver. Delicately, gently, smoothly, quietly, calmly, gradually removing it from it's holster at her thigh. Left hand mimics this action perfectly. Elbows bend in unison bringing the weapons up near her head. The icy steel of their barrels almost touching her pallid cheeks. Somber eyes gazed unfocused at the wall in front of them. It's detailed carvings not holding any fascination in her minds eye. Only listening, now. All other senses left virtually untapped. Almost. Just around the corner, the unsettling sounds of it's steady movements echo relentlessly in her ears. Scratch-shing, scratch-shing,….Now!

Flame touched irises gaze into the blackened sockets where it's eyes should look back upon her own. No emotion not even hatred. A dead thing . Pledged to guard it's masters treasure for all eternity. Flesh had long since worn away leaving only ragged bones. Armor was it's only covering. Rusted and ancient. A long sword; a large shield. These are it's articles of warfare. Cursed in all respects. The two regard each other for a moment. Pistols aimed at it's skull. Sword pointed aggressively.Separated by a distance of about 20 feet. Distance is not much to seperate foes.

"Ello chum."

Triggers were squeezed loosing bullets to ravage it's seemingly fragile frame. The sound would speak of destruction. Steel no longer cold in her hands, but heated. The weapons have come alive in her grip. They jerk as if living with each shot fired. She too had felt a stir within causing lips to curl satisfactorily. Not to last. It became apparent that her onslaught was doing nothing to diminish the creature. Not even did it shift during the attack. Plink, plink, plink. Used shells fell harmlessly to the ground. Fingers slid from triggers in defeat. Weapons are returned to their holsters. Yet she is unabashed. There is more than one way to skin a cat. Free hands fidgeted expectedly at her sides. Anxious.

Warm breath escaped smoothly through parted lips. **Your turn.**

Bony feet clattered as they impacted the ground. One then the other. Scratch-shing. That loathsome and memorable reverberation. She stood in wait for the right moment to act though it no longer walked but ran toward her fiercely. A hint of hatred now apparent in it's callous expression. Wait for it. Blade held high ready to slash. The scratch of metal against metal, the clatter of bone against stone, the thump of her heart against her chest. Reflection captured in the glinting blade. She looked at her own image. A moment so still it would last longer than the seconds it actually took. Everything happened so fast it felt slow.

Dark pits instead of eyes. Should it's eyes look upon her they would gleam with evil delight. Swoosh. Cutting across air to greet her neck with it's bitter sweet coolness. Maybe next time. Ducking quickly she scurried beneath his thrust and made a run for it. The sharp edge bit into the corner of the stone wall sending bits of debris flying. A couple of which hit Lara in the back of the head. **Ouch!**

No time to look back. Not necessary either. The incessant scraping of metal urged her to keep running faster and faster. Damn, damn, damn! Think of something! Athletic vigor kept her considerably ahead of the creature although one false move would forsake her. Pillars pass by the way and archways cast shadows down on her fleeting form.

"Whoa!"

The ground broke off into a sheer drop before her. Powerful muscles strained as knees bent slightly to vault her body far into the air. Flying over the pit; legs treading thin air. Arms spread like fragile wings. Absolute freedom despite the circumstances.

Collision of soft flesh with solid stone. A rude awakening. Lithe body flung onto the hard surface with a slap. I'll be feeling that in the morning…if I make it that far. She forced herself to roll over with much pain. Only momentary pain but it sure did smart. The creature would not be stopped by a mere gap over a bottomless precipice. That would be letting her off easy. The usual scratch-shing met her ears shortly. It would be upon her within 30 seconds. Thinking fast she forced her sore body into a standing position. As expected it came in a hurry swinging it's sword and shield at it's sides. The weight of which were probably the only things that gave her an advantage of speed. Hands, shaky from excitement, reached for the shotgun strapped to her back. She would have to time it just right or else. Upon reaching the edge it soared into the air at a supernatural height. Even higher than she herself had jumped. Too bad this marvelous stunt would have to be cut short of landing. One eye closed. Aim…

BOOM!

The war cry of a shotgun. Bony arms and legs flailed desperately as it's spine bent backwards making a revolting crunching sound. Falling fast; shadows claimed it's figure. She looked down at it as it fell. **Farwell.** It didn't scream but she felt a frantic shriek reverberate throughout herself. No sound just a feeling. The sensation seized her like the creature was somehow grasping at her beyond it's physicality. Curious. It caught her off guard and made her feel strangely distressed. This sequence of events often came back to her. It stuck in her mind for some reason, unexplainable. She had thought it sport to find ingenious ways of destroying such creatures. Shoving them into ravines, blowing them up, and blowing off their heads. Why was it any different then? It meant something. Perhaps something she was yet to find out. Everything was so real when it came to her in the night. She could feel the harshness of the wall she leaned against. She could clearly see the emptiness in it's dark emotionless eye sockets.. She could hear the scratch-shing of metal against metal as if it was sneaking about in her very room. Most of all though, she could sense that horrid shriek traverse her entire body. Chills ran down her spine and that's when she woke up, mouth agape as if she was the one falling to her doom and shrieking madly. No one knew of it though. Lara Croft wasn't afraid of nightmares. Afraid isn't the word. Troubled is more apt.

Another question. Why had it come to her now? Maybe it was that same distressing feeling felt as she stood awaiting her destiny.

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Lara Croft. A strange thing to behold in such a place as this. Standing before a fateful darkness. A pool of crimson life fluid. So precious, so worthlessly spilled out. Is it such a little thing? Behind her and before her now in the privacy of her mind. A common sight to and yet it cries out to be different. These eyes shed not tears. It would be counted a weakness against her. This can not be allowed. All manner of thoughts invade her mind. None of which are reassuring in the least. All of them scared little thoughts. Thoughts of doom and loss. Mostly of loss, but this can not be allowed. This must be ignored. That's the way. **Ignore everything but getting out of here alive. Damn the cost. This has served you well. Nothing else… no one else matters now.** Questions abound whereas answers are few. Answers leading to more questions. Leading to more confusion. Truth more perplexing than a fabricated reality where she longed to be. At home. Away from anything that reminded her of what had taken place in the last few days, hours even. Dwelling on fictitious things gets one nowhere. That is why she must go on now…into the confusion. Truth. It is the only thing that can clear her name.

__

--"Abandon all hope ye who enter here."--

The air is cold and foreboding. Intermittent sounds of questionable origin faintly whisper...whisper of something sinister. The only light, the chirugai. It's warm luminosity fights against the darkness making a small patch of ground visible before her. This, though, is not a comfort, as the ground is stained with the blood of many victims. She is forced onward down this path, her footsteps echoing slightly behind her. Something inside wills her to keep moving though the darkness creeps down her spine as though it were a living thing with nothing better to do than warn her of some danger real or imagined. Forward, it prods, and she is helpless against it's irresistible manipulation. It is hollow and dead inside these walls. They would crush you as soon as shelter you. A dungeon of sorts. Air so stagnant and choking. Thick with vile odors. Short breaths are all she can manage. Would you kill me without a battle?  
Her leather gloved hand reaches instinctively for the cold steel of her pistol. She knows the proto-nephilim can't be killed with a mere barrage of bullets but if it slowed them down it would quite literally be worth a shot . Those shards would be of a lot more use in my hand than jammed into Echkhardt's corpse under so much rubble.

Ears catch the steady rhythm of her own steps; eyes dart about at whatever the meager amount of light would allow her to see. Nothing for a period of time, immeasurable in length. Forever and a day. It doesn't matter, nor can it be told with certainty. There is something about the absence of light that would blind other senses as well as sight. Such a disagreeable thing, is darkness. In the way of progress and unashamed at that.

The light being brought in via chirugai mocks it's intolerableness. In return the foreign invaders seem intolerable to the darkness. The air becomes more stifling. Another warning perhaps. Her movement continues unaffected by the growing uneasiness. All signs point to something ahead. Something unknown but menacing nonetheless. This feeling is familiar, and ironically encouraging to her. Lara could always sense danger. It was a 'sixth sense' that proved extremely useful in her tomb raiding days. **Haven't lost my touch I see.** Full lips curl up for a split second then frown once more. This is no time to be smiling at one's cleverness.

The swift do not have the race, nor the mighty the battle. Words of wisdom. Anything can happen out there, but it's here I'm worried about even more so. All this time she had been avoiding even the thought of him. A distraction. This can not be allowed. If he was alive she would be pleased and if not…

A minute rustle from behind. Instinctively, she swivels to face the disturbance. Gun pointed intrepidly erect before her, it's very tip daring to disappear into the shadows that envelope her. Nothing…This defensive stance is a held a few seconds more to make sure nothing is lingering in wait for her back to turn. Even as she turns her attention is held fast on listening for whatever it was that made that sound. **Sounds don't make themselves.** Or was it she who made the sound? Not of physical means but of mental ones. As was said, the darkness can blind other senses. Perception is not safe from it. It likes to play tricks on those who would stumble along in it's grasp. Darkness is a mean spirited thing. Toying with it's victims cruelly, and thinking nothing of it. **Do not linger here.** At this beckoning she moves onward. What choice does she have?

The monotony of this trek does not put her at ease. A fool would walk this distance and think nothing would happen since it hadn't thus far. They would let their guard down. Assume nothing. They want to fool you into a false sense of security. Why trust them to give you an easy time about your business? The bastards have something planned. I know they're here. I can feel their disgusting presence. Why aren't they attacking?! Such unsettling thoughts. She is unwilling to go any further down this 'one-way street'. Logic forces it's way into the panic stricken moment. **You have no choice.**

A chilling tension grips her whole body. Breath grows still as heart speeds up. Never, save a few instances, had she ever felt this frightened. It scared her to be so scared. Had she lost control? Was she going nuts from the stress of this whole thing? Those cruel eyes flash before her. The eyes of a merciless madman. Joachim Karel. They looked down at her with such hatred. A shudder passes through her body. So alone and afraid. This memory would always haunt her. Such was it's imprint on her psyche. The walls seem to close in on her fragile body.** Alone.** The poignancy of this one word echoes through her mind again and again like drops of rain accosting a rooftop. Claustrophobia sets in. Shaking knees try to buckle, but using the last ounces of strength in her possession she resists. Vision grows blurry…tiny spots of light. Everything seemed to be disappearing from awareness. A terrifying loss of stability. Zoning out…losing; falling.

****

Don't give up! The thought was so tenderly put into her mind that it calmed all her extreme emotions instantly. Lashes fall over weary eyes to concentrate. They rise slowly moments later upon reaching a decision. Alright. I can do this. Chest undulates slowly with steady even breaths. Strength returns to her members as they receive oxygen, and her mind clears of these distractions. Calmness takes over along with a want to continue. One booted foot treads the surface of the ground delicately. The other follows in like manner. Still ill at ease, but it's a start. The pace quickens as her steps multiply, and she is on her way again.

****

Bloody long hallway. It seemed she had been walking rather blindly for an hour. The path seems to widen out so she moves the chirugai up a little to shine its light on the walls before her. Just when I thought it couldn't get any better. Sarcasm, due to the fact that, just to make things more complicated, the hall broke off into three separate directions. Tremulous fingers grip the chirugai searching for something she didn't know. It is lifted before the beginnings of each new hallway. The light catches nothing of particular interest in it's glow. More of the same. None of the proposed pathways looked more favorable than another so she could only stand before this conundrum absolutely confused and completely frustrated. **Left!** The command stirs her to action immediately. The sound changes to that of a hollow windiness. The sound of silence as it were. Everything is holding it's breath now. Lara pays fixed attention to all these nuances. Nothing is too small to take into consideration when in such straits.

A little ways ahead an inviting light floods into the hallway dissipating almost abruptly as it makes it way further down her chosen route. Don't hurry. The light beckons but don't hurry. Her feet would struggle against her to rush to this seeming invitation. Beautiful features bathed in false light. For this is not light which illuminates the surrounding area. This dungeon is not that which can send forth true light. Only an obviously disguised darkness. Darkness posing as light. That is the form it has taken now. The guiding light of the chirugai is no longer necessary now. Dilated pupils take in too much light and lids shut over them automatically to let them adjust without pain. The familiar smell of death pervades her nostrils, unwelcome. It is a nauseating stench. Metallic, brackish, fermented, and bitter all at once. It had been present before in the hallways but now, ever so much stronger. Ever so much more suffocating. This smell is a friend of darkness. They give you the same chill, the same misgivings, and the same apprehension. It's commonplace role in her life deadens her senses to it's atrocity. She too was a friend of darkness in a strange sort of way. Not in abiding by it's evil ways of course, but by many times taking shelter in it's covering. A shelter from eyes that would seek and destroy. Many times sneaking along and relying on it. Not so much a friend as an acquaintance. Something she used to accomplish her goals. Having reached the end of the hallway she stands to inspect this new area, not willing to enter the room without proper scruple of it's dimensions.

Brows raise curiously at the display just 50 feet before her. A dark form lies rigid on the sordid floor of the large chamber. **Kurtis.** The name sends forth many emotions. None of them valid here. Stupid weak feelings not suitable for a warrior. A trail of blood leads out to him in the center of the massive room. Little indiscriminately shaped puddles and smears of fresh blood. Their red vibrancy gives away their age or lack there of. He had not been waiting long. I'm Here. Now where's that greeting party?

This was too easy. Him lying there so serenely untouched. The little buggers might just as well of gift wrapped him and put a big sign up that said: Kurtis Here! A sarcastic laugh held back so as not to give her position away. Instead she curls the corners of her lips up in a mean little grin and looks the place over with a keen calculating eye. The light was coming from a jaggedly shaped shaft in the ceiling. A very high ceiling at that. At least 20 feet up. Unkempt bangs fall lazily down her cheeks like little bits of silk as she cocks up to get a better perspective. The room is round, the circumference of which could nearly house a football field. It had distinct cave-like qualities to it. The walls, untouched by hands left in their natural, uneven, rocky state. Shadows encircled the far side of the enclosure. A few basic looking columns nearly hugged the walls. Barely visible from this distance were a handful of exits/entrances. All draped in the usual darkness.

A perfect ambush location. Couldn't have planned it better myself. Damn those conniving little wretches! Was it wise to go to him? Was he already dead? Even if he was still barely hanging on to life she had no way of giving him the medical attention he undoubtedly needed. No way of getting him out of here. Then again she couldn't very well just turn around and walk home. Besides the moral implications of just leaving him there to die alone, she probably had already been spotted by the creatures. They would naturally attack her as she made her way down that horridly dark hallway and that would be that. **no thank you!**

If she met them in the large chamber at least she would have a playing field in which to give herself a fighting chance. Maybe, one of those doors would lead her out of this hell-hole. The thought of leaving him there to die, assuming he wasn't already dead, stabbed at her cruelly. A burning knot forms in her stomach. The sardonic smile falls from her lips as easily as it had dressed them only moments before. **To hell with him.**

She throws the feeling away but it does not die. Lingering in the back of her mind stubbornly. **Forward.** Again, she obeys without even the thought of resistance crossing her mind. Each careful footfall is felt all through out her body though its sound to anyone listening would be barely distinguishable, even if they listened intently. Heart pounding furiously in her chest. Adrenaline pumping a thrilling anxiety through her veins. Hands now slick with sweat beneath their leather sheaths. The right one clenching the handle of her pistol unyieldingly. It gives her an odd sort of comfort to cling to it's cold hardness. One slender finger toying with the trigger ready to squeeze it at any given moment.

He was lying on his stomach. Head turned to the side. Tousled bangs hiding his visage. Chirugai is set by her side as she kneels. Gloved hands glide over tattered cloth. The touch of him was without the warmth of life. She turns him over at once. Bloody. Flecks or crimson marred rugged features. Torso completely damp with his own fluids. Blood smattered all over his pants. The term 'mess' would be an understatement. Graceful fingers seek his neck and a pulse. Barely warm.** Come on you son of a bitch…** Not a sign of life…he was dead. Even after it was obvious she did not move. Frozen physically and mentally. Determined to have him alive. If anyone was going to kill him it was her. No over-sized Godzilla wannabe was going to take the satisfaction of blowing him away, away from her. This was the excuse. She wanted him alive so she could kill him herself. It was satisfactory for the time being because it was mostly true. Gaze did not waver from his corpse. Nothing conscious except her waiting fingertips. Waiting, watching, hoping, and then more waiting.

__

--Curse these bonds of mortal man,

that I mightn't reach beyond these hands.--

Weak pressure manifests itself against her vigilant touch. It was so small. It was so heartening. Nothing could have made her happier or sadder. He was hanging in there…wouldn't make it though. She couldn't do a damn thing to save him, but still a warmth filled her. Lashes flutter revealing a hint of blue. It is gone too soon. She would have loved to look into those beautiful penetrating eyes just once more before…What am I thinking?! Pansy bullshit. She is disgusted with herself and loses her temper. Great Kurtis! You fucking genius. What am is supposed to do now? Drag your sorry ass out of here in my backpack?! Completely frustrated, but determined. It had come to this. She would have to leave him. No. Not like this. Maybe there was something she could do? She ripped the shredded cloth away and revealed the wound entirely. It was examined closely. A gory mess of torn flesh. Punctured straight through his middle. Ghastly. Now, her own hands were covered in his blood. Vivid crimson catches her gaze, and she looks at them for a moment. So precious; so worthlessly spilled out. It feels different. The torn piece of his shirt was used to wrap around him. A makeshift bandage. Pitiful.

No one was going to accuse her of not trying. If Karel got a hold of him he'd use him for his evil purposes. Probably torture what little life was left out of him. Kurtis wasn't that much of a bastard to deserve such a fate. What am I doing?…I can't save him. I have to do it. I'd be doing him a favor…Fingers brush against her lips then glide across his own. It doesn't matter now.

"Farewell."

The cold steel of her pistol barrel graces his temple. It's coolness carries throughout her own self. His shut eyes hiding. What do they see? Wouldn't scream to break the tension. A scream would be sweet in comparison. Nothingness. What does he see? Even closed eyes see. Could he feel it coming. The kiss of death. Deadened and numb. So very alone. I always knew I'd shoot him, right? Lips pursed; brows furrowed. It would be easy, no? Pull that little trigger…tiny little trigger. To squeeze it would be so effortless. So simple. A test of mental strength rather than physical. She was stronger than this. It wasn't strength though. There was something telling her no. Couldn't listen. It was the kind thing to do. Whole body strained. Beads of sweat slide down her forehead. Breath ragged. Trembling like a novice. You have no choice. I can't…Yes you can! Just do it! He'd want you to, damn it! **Squeeze!**

"Errrgg…"

Throaty utterance rips through the strained silence. **Ah, my little fiends.** They sauntered out of the dark places. A few visible in front of her but she could hear twice as many scraping the ground behind her. About 10 of them. Proto-nephilim. The shadows clung to their bodies unwilling to let go of their own. Hunched over and groaning as they moved. Long appendages like tentacles for arms. You know what they look like don't you? Beady eyes, tortured expression, and the stench of death following them like a taunt. Oh, that death should be so sweet as to strike one down. The disinclined children of darkness. Cursed in all respects. Pity would find it favorable to end their suffering. She rises slowly forgetting all about what needed to be done. He waits patiently. Her pistol chooses a less friendly target and she fires a single shot at it's grotesque head, doing nothing to upset it's forward march. A shot that might have taken away something dear.

"Fucking impervious sons of bitches."

The curse muttered under her breath. Things had officially gotten much worse. It all seemed hopeless. She envisioned a tragic Romeo and Juliet scene of her lying dead beside Kurtis. A pair of star crossed lovers indeed. **Over my dead body.** Probably. Pistol holstered. It wouldn't do any good anyway. She would have to use her wits and agility to get out of this one.

"Okay, you want to go? Let's go…"

Hands held out before her in a martial arts style. Bent over slightly. Prepared. They formed a circle around her and inched closer and closer. Any gaps between them to escape were being closed slowly but surely. Now or Never it seemed .When the right moment arrives feet go into action and she leaps up and dives for one of them. Her hands push up from the top of it's head and she flips up and over the creature like it was a balance beam and sticks the landing. Her gym instructor of yester year would have been proud. Grin spreads full lips.

"Ha!"

The swift do not have the race. A doorway right in front of her. So close. Now was her chance! All thoughts aimed at escape. Forgetting something? Feet were willed to move but something was wrong. Tightening sensation about her ankle. It happens so fast it feels slow. She trips and falls hard, biting the dust. The taste of blood from a busted lip. A rough jolt backwards. Being drug back into the fray. Eyes blurry from airborne dust. Vulnerable and shadowed by evil monsters all around. Nothing visible. Darkness…cover me, hide me, protect me. Surrounded and down. They seek to destroy. She hears it laugh. The darkness laughs. Or is it they who crowd in greedily for the kill? Despicable vultures. The world closes in on her small body. All hope, abandoned. A scream to break the tension. It is bitter-sweet. Don't slip away so easy. Don't fall so gently.

__

--"Never was a story of more woe  
Than this of Juliet and her Romeo." --


	2. Ch 2 Beautiful Dreamer

no i'm not leaving this to stagnant. i still do not own any traod characters nor the excerpt from spanish eyes. it's all going to pick up drastically around chapter four if you're waiting for some action. no not that kind!

Chapter 2: Beautiful Dreamer

In a tangle of their compulsory malice; wriggling limbs and raspy gusts of breath defile. Heart racing like thoughts that wish to soothe apprehensions. It seemed like a good ideal at the time. Suckered in by once in a blue moon eyes and wouldn't you like to know left unsaid in the corners of a crooked grin. Good ideal metamorphosed into a gun to his head avalanching from there to being found beneath the atrocious touch of mutant horrors. Needless complications called sentiments can turn into life threatening complications called you made a mistake trying to be somebody's hero. But, if life doesn't matter then what does?

Cold-blooded screams slice through hoarse throats. Looking up into beady eyes alive with fear but glossed with depravity. Jagged openings for mouths stretched full wide as they cry out to anything. They let go and draw back, back at an unseen incentive. Forming a wide circle. Watching as birds of prey. Blood lust restrained from it's fruition. She is left to lie with questioning thoughts and the echo of their torture ringing in her ears. Breath easy for a few minutes while it all dies down to an uncertain calm.

"Toss your weapons here." Gruff masculine voice hinting at anger. He had a gun. Didn't need to look back to know it. When she gets up and turns around it is true as foretold. **Glock 37 .45 GAP**. Her movement arrested by it's decidedly lethal aim. Past scenes flash back of the visage staring coldly. The man's eyes are small and direct. Tucked into a common face with straight features. Looked like he had just stepped off the front lines of some battle. Left, right, left are expected words from his rigid line of a mouth. A completely shaven head to finish off the tough guy look. Bluish-steel stubble goatee . Menacing in height, must be at least six feet tall. Exactly what you expect an ex-commando bodyguard/bouncer to look like.

"You again." Brusque and laced with poison.

"Now." Taut words nearly shouted. Her comment ignored. She blinks at him curiously but decides it best to comply. Can't exactly run with a gun aimed to shoot between your eyes.

Casually tosses the gun from it's holster to the ground before him while maintaining that characteristic spite in her out of place grin. Hopes he won't make her give up the small arsenal in her backpack. He grins at her with effort to curl up the stone carved mouth.

"The backpack." **Damn! **Such cruel satisfaction lurking in the shadows of his face. She does not play into the fear he feeds on. Just slides the straps off and throws it rather forcefully to him or at him. His lions paw of a hand catches it with deft precision. Never loses her gaze. The gun still pointed aggressively. Doesn't give her a mistake. He snaps it open with little effort and dumps the contents out, still searching for an aggrieved reaction in her. She doesn't give him one. We're playing a game.

"Hmmm…" Glancing down too quickly to be taken advantage of. "You don't have the key…"

"Key?" **How curious.**

"You've managed to make quite a nuisance of yourself Miss Croft." Casually spoken, casually answered.

"Is that all?"

"The name's Gunderson, Marten if you please. Karel would have liked to speak to you himself but he's what you would call _indisposed_ right now." Façade of nonchalance.

"Not dead? Pity…" We're both playing charades. Trailing off with thought. It would have been too 'easy'. Of course he's still alive.

"Even with the Sleeper destroyed you didn't accomplish anything but slowing down our operation. And now, finally, we have the means to realize His vision." A thin square of metal is pulled from his pocket. Lots of little buttons dot it's surface. It appears to be some kind of handheld keypad. Glints fiercely for an inanimate thing.

"This is the wave of the future, if you will." There is admiration in his tone. A glow to his otherwise dull eyes.

"His vision? Wave of the future? What? A bloodbath? You're all demented." It's hard to keep from shouting. Brainwashed bunch of zealots. How could anyone sink so low as to betray their own kind? Well, that's the Cabal for you. Twisted fucks.

"Nice try Lara. For a second there you almost come off as high-minded. Almost, but you're a cold-blooded killer no different than one of us. Don't preach to me about a bloodbath. Those in glass houses, as they say." His mouth seemed to be held in a perpetual smirk. When he spoke it tainted his words to either condescension or sarcasm.

"It's kill or be killed. Not just for the sake of grandiose schemes. Don't compare me to your heinous agenda, _His vision _,as you call it. I'd call it lunacy. The only people I kill are _people_ are people like _you_."

Still keeping it unemotional. No hate or fear or any sign of anything just a sentence. Let's see who fumbles first. It's still a game, don't forget.

"Bravo again, but this…"Holding up the keypad. "… is the future and there is nothing your postulated morals can do to stop it." He plays well, but inferior nonetheless.

"Since you're so certain, what is the future? If you would be so kind as to divulge it's mechanics." Motioning to the device and biting her errant tongue. It would be unwise to anger him further. He's the one with the gun after all.

"This, my dear, is what we like to call a _cerebral manipulation conduit. CMC." _Said the big words slow like she couldn't understand it otherwise. Maybe it was for himself.

"Yes, but what does the CMC do?"

"With this and a chip strategically inserted into the mutants brains we can get them to do whatever we want. If that includes our _heinous agenda _then we just have to sit back, pull a few strings, and watch it unfold. There's one little thing though."

"Ah." Still has no clue as to the extents of their new agenda. Doesn't matter all that much. It's no good whatever it is.

"They die easy once they got the chip. It triggers some reaction in them that makes them extremely, well, killable. Your bullets bounced right off of them for the simple reason that it takes about a week for them to fizzle out and these ones are fresh out of the shop, you see."

"And where do I come into this seedy little picture you're painting, Mister Gunderson, is it?"

"Joachim knows how to make them stronger than before the chip, but yet another catch. This is where your second chance comes in. He's willing to forgive your prior infraction if you assist in the achievement of our goal. Says he likes the ones that play hard to get." That arrogant chuckles tails his words. The incessant rattling of "funny bones".

"You can tell him that he can take his offer and jump off the nearest balcony with it."

Anger nearly breaks through the crepe paper charade of calm and unconcerned. He devours her slip up and grows stronger.

"That's _most_ unfortunate for your girlfriend." Teasing the expression.

"Oh?" Gathered back into her impervious shell. Vigilant for any opportunity to strike. The sole of his boot is set to rest on Kurtis's head. It doesn't matter, it does. He tests her with a raised eyebrow. She puts her quintessential smirk into play.

"Oh yes, the human leverage. There's nothing too sordid for your tactics now is there?"

Beginning with a pompous chortle. His revolting characteristic. Her gaze is set on his razor thin lips as they slice the silence scornfully in her direction.

"You see Lara, you can pretend like you don't care, but I know that somewhere buried deep in that murderous heart of yours this worthless son of a bitch a few ignorant people would call a man means something to you besides target practice. That's why you came back, that's why you're here, and that's why you're going to do what we want."

He borrows her coolness and adds some mean scowl she saw before on a dead mans face.

"Never." Simple, curt, just enough to be explicitly clear. Shedding the games constraints, he becomes someone else; irate and intolerant; intolerable.

"Well, then this shouldn't bother _you_ at all." Laughing. Always laughing.

The oblivious subject of debate is thrown back onto his stomach with the force of a ruthless kick. Pathetic moan escaping the bloody heap. In it's soft grievance regret lingers. Betrayed by strategically asinine thoughts to actions. Blood of a bitch. Sets the colossal bastard ablaze with her smoldering glare.

"What's this? Anger? I'm _truly _surprised. Has this Lux Veritatis piece of shit been pulling on your heart strings? Never let sentiments get in the way of business. You of all people I would expect to know that. Quite rudimentary. But ,then again, you are just a _woman_." Had to add that last part. Now it's personal. Anything else, but those are fighting words. He'll rue the day.

"Resorting to petty insults are we? Quite rudimentary devices, but you are just a _man_. I will, under no circumstances or penalty, acquiesce." Spat out of a tight held mouth causing his eyes gleam with something other than friendly indifference. If looks could kill.

"Well, then I see no good reason to keep him alive." Twice in one day the kiss of death, that ice-cold caress of a gun pointed to kill instantly. Cast shadows suggest ethereal evil in his drawn face.

"Last chance, Lara. I'm not even close to kidding." The royal flush to win the game. Fork in the road. So much blood on an intangible word. Why? Yes, and I'm undone. No and those eyes…Ripped out of the safety of her shell. But, I am Lara Croft. I don't lose. Keep it together.

"Well?!" Filigree of subterfuge laces through her brain. Blood as arctic waters coursing through to establish a frightening alertness and heightened senses. No! Irresistible manipulation resurrected. See death; scream life, in a single moment of trigger teased in mid-squeeze. And in a moment so overwrought differences can be made. Temporal alterations. The blink of an eye is sufficient to avail herself of a gap in his game play. Eyes like a lynx to perceive the means necessary to win this hand. The gun lying in a pile of her dumped out belongings calls attention with hoary luster. Seven feet by estimate. Satisfactory. Shaking with adrenaline's sweet surge. Punch it and go!

She hurls her body in a frantic dive for the weapon and savior. Blood flow a frightening repetition in her ears. Nothing else. Closed eyes. Feel not see the embrace of the ground as she rolls. Painful yet gratifying. Clench that textured grip for dear life in the end of his. Gunshot nicks her boot but I'm too fast for you. Arise and stand. Her own shot with the gentle squeeze of a trigger sends him backward. Behemoth toppled from his surety. Drops the metallic square of servile technology. Minute metallic clatter of it's descent. Light catches the polished surface of the Glock as he aims one last time in mid-plunge. Her heart skips a beat seeing it's precise aim. But the strength is lacking to administer the blow. See his dull eyes scream. Expiring in a scarlet pool of bad karma. Just a _man_. Game over.

Breathing chaotically. She kneels to examine the bullet-burned edge of her boot. A neatly smoldered hole near the heel. Just smashing...Why couldn't he have just rolled over like a good little dog? Now I'll need a new pair Her items lay scattered. Clips, guns, medical aids, chocolate bars, I'm not hungry. Pieces of my life all over the ground. She gathers them quickly and shoves them into her backpack under the unnervingly sterile glare of the protos. They don't move; hardly breath. Silent jury. Pulls the Glock from still warm fingers and slides it into her left holster. **Now, we're even. **A strange man's gun is dangerous exhilarating, but I'm not smiling. The CMC. She scoops up the deceptively light instrument and places it in a safe pocket in her backpack where a disastrous accidental button pressing wouldn't occur. The familiar routine feels hollow.

But, what's to be done with you? Couldn't very well shoot him. Didn't seem right after what had happened. She turns him over once again with some effort. Hands tinctured by the shade of life and death. We're back were we started. Sitting there and looking on his sleeping face. Blood flecked dreamer. What do you see? All of them stand around and watch with their black marble eyes boring holes in the fabric of space. The incarnation of darkness in a perfect circle. Eerily watching and waiting to claim him as they know his passing hastens. Metaphorical vultures eyeing their prey. It doesn't mater anymore. Go ahead and watch. It doesn't matter. Her hand glides over his face to brush the tangle of bangs away. Viscid fluid smeared with the gentle sweeping motion. She clasps his hand and feels the bitter-cold touch of death creeping; up her arm to chill the bones. You're soon to fade but don't go. I don't know you stranger but not now. Not on my watch, but nothing to be done.

The thought to leave doesn't surface. She would stay until he left then…whatever. Find a way out. Do the whole Lara Croft save the world trip, again. It's wearing thin. Too much change and Egypt is a bad aftertaste. Something indistinct says don't worry. A far off echo. Her whole mind a cavernous echo of unfriendly concepts. It is surprising how so much had happened to think about but only vague apprehensions exist. We're waiting for something. That's what the silence says. Good or bad, as long as it's something it doesn't matter. The grip tightens about her hand. Only a little. Enough to know. Teetering on his edge. I know it's close and I'll wait for you. Closes her eyes to feel only. Sight obstructs. Hear the dead wake and whisper. It's so quiet hear their cry. I'm not scared. Hold on. Don't want to open my eyes to this dark sky, and we're not here right now if we close our eyes. I won't open them 'till your gone so we don't have to be here. I don't want to be here. Still holding on. I want to know why.

Too absorbed to hear them come, but they're quiet so it's okay. A faint whooshing sound of air displaced resulting in the small pricking sensation she feels on her upper arm. The drug takes effect instantly and she drifts away as though in peace. Collapsed onto him without a fight. Darkness made her own. Last thing is his blood on her face. It's cold, and we're not here.

--Blue Spanish eyes teardrops are falling from your Spanish   
Eyes  
Please please don't cry, this is just adios and not good-  
Bye.--


End file.
